Reforming
by UniversalOverlordess
Summary: In which Kurt is sent to Dalton Academy, a reform school for juveniles, for something he didn't do: it was all Puckerman's fault. However, joining the Warblers and meeting Blaine Anderson may let him realize that not everyone is what they seem. Klaine AU
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own Glee.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Diary of Kurt Hummel<strong>_

_**Day one**_

_**Weather: **_...are you serious?

_**Time: 2134**_

_**Mood: **_I want to _hurt_ something. That something being Noah Puckerman.

Fuck Puckerman.

Fucking fuck Puckerman.

I seriously can't even think about him without wanting to snap his neck, the fucking douchebag.

Why am I so pissed off at fucking Puckerman, Di? Well, it's his fault that I'm at a _reform school._ That's right, Di. Kurt Hummel, the good boy who does no wrong is at a _reform school_.

A fucking_ reform school_.

I'm swearing a lot, can you _tell_ that I'm pissed?

I don't write in diaries, or keep journals, but the judge and my fucking therapist told me to keep one, so that I can write down all of my "angry thoughts so that I don't act out on them" the douches. It's like they think that they know what's going on in my mind. They have no "_ucking_ idea. Right now, my mind is full of dead corpses that all look like fucking Puckerman. He's on the ground, blood pouring out of his body and I'm laughing, oh how I'm laughing.

Shit.

My therapist is going to _read_ this, I forgot... And I can't erase. Dammit! One of the rules is he reads it in order to judge my sanity. Like he can actually tell how sane I am from reading my journal entries. I could be feeling like killing someone and write about stupid unicorns and butterflies in the journal and the stupid therapist wouldn't have a clue. Hell, I could be plotting the therapists death and he'd sit there all smiled and shit.

Okay, okay. Calm down, Hummel.

So, why am I going to reform school? Because of fucking Puckerman.

He stole an ATM.

I got blamed for part of it.

Fuck my life.

He'd woken me up at three in the morning, told me it was an emergency; I picked him up in my car at the bank, thinking he'd been stranded and shit.

In his arms was the fucking ATM.

He shoved it into my trunk, pulled me out of the drivers seat and into the passengers seat, took the wheel, and floored it. I couldn't believe it. He'd just made me an accessory to robbing. I wanted to _slaughter_ him. I still do.

But before I got the chance the police caught us and we were taken to jail. God, when my dad walked into the police station I about shit my pants. I think Puckerman did shit his, actually. Dad paid for me to get out, but there was going to be a trial, because I was an "accessory" and had to be punished for my heinous crime.

Since the judge seemed to believe me when I said I had no idea of what Puck had called me for, I got off with what was considered easy. Puck? Not so much.

He got sent to juvy.

I got sent to a fucking reform school.

Again, fuck my life.

_**End of first entry.**_

_**Don't forget to smile!**_

...are you fucking kidding me?

{~*~}

Dalton Academy for boys.

On the outside, it looked like a nice, private establishment for boys whose families had money and wanted their kids to have the best education.

The truth?

It was a nice, private establishment for boys whose families had the money to bribe the judge. Or for the boys who were able to make good deals. Whatever.

The exterior and interior were rather nice, if one looked past the few bars in the windows and the large gates that closed every night at six, I guess. There was a tollbooth at the entrance of the gate so visitors could check in if it was after six. Only family was allowed to visit past eight, though. The actual doors into Dalton were large and heavy, with large locks on the inside so "no one could even think about escaping. You all should be locked up anyway", the security guard told me. His name was Larry.

I didn't like him.

But I'm pretty sure he didn't like me, so whatever.

Boys who went to Dalton boarded, which was another way of saying "we don't trust you to be out in the civilized world, so we're going to put you in a room with someone who likes to play with knives and carve words into things. And yes, that does include skin".

Luckily for me, I didn't have that roommate. My roommate was a boy named Wes, who, according to himself had a problem with hitting things with large objects; some of those things included humans, and the larges objects sometimes included cars. "But the last one was a complete accident," he'd assured me, as if it would make me feel any better.

But for all his quirks, Wes was actually a good kid. He was one of the top students at Dalton, and he wanted to go to Harvard. "I want to get out of this state. Sometimes I think Ohio has made everyone in this school crazy."

I had to say I agreed.

My days consisted of a schedule: wake up, breakfast, morning classes, luch, afternoon classes, then community service, dinner and bed. What a life. I wasn't worried about the classes or the time schedule. What I was worried about was the community service. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Luckily for me (or maybe noy so lucky) Wes helped me figure that out while I was getting ready for my first day.

"I'm sorry, but the what?"

"The Warblers," he said while gathering his books and placing them in his bag. "We're an a Capella glee club, and we do community service by performing at nursing homes, during holidays, stuff like that. We even compete during competition season if all of us have been good." Wes turned to me. Do you sing?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I was in my old school's Glee club."

"What part did you sing?"

"Countertenor, but-"

He lunged forward and grabbed my shoulders. "You have an audition, tonight at five. It's in the senior commons be there." And he left without another word.

I stared at the open door. Maybe he'd been right and all of the boys at Dalton had gone crazy. Picking up my messenger bag I headed out of my room, wanting to make it to my first class on time. Just because I was in reform school didn't mean I wanted to slack.

The students at Dalton all wore a uniform. Don't ask me why, because I don't know and there isn't a reason for it in the manual that I'd been forced to read last night. And while I never thought that I'd end up wearing one (or at a reform school, fucking Puckerman - once you get out of juvy I'm going to castrate you), I had to admit that I looked pretty good in it. As did the other boys.

I managed to make it through my first three classes without any incident, but I didn't end up talking to anyone either. It wasn't until I was getting ready to leave my English class for lunch did someone approach me.

He was tall, blond and had a huge smile on his face. If I'd met him on the street, I wouldn't have even guessed that he went to Dalton. "Hi," he said happily. "My name is Jeff. You're Wes' new roommate, right?"

I nodded and held my hand hand out. "My name is Kurt."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt," he said, shaking my hand. "What did you do to get placed in this place?"

It was an innocent enough question, and I was about to answer it when Wes breezed past us as said, "Don't answer that, Kurt. You'll tell us what you did during your Warblers audition."

Jeff's smile seemed to light up. "Dude, you're auditioning for the Warblers? Awesome!"

I had to smile. Jeff's was infectious. "Yeah, if I get in."

"Let's get to lunch. Maybe all of the whole wheat bread will still be there if we get there early," Wes said, walking quickly out of the room (he'd told me that he never rushed places. Ever - except for when he does).

The walk to the lunch room, Jeff told me more about himself. "I'm in here for being a klepto. I see something nice and I... I just have to have it, you know?"

"Sure," I supplied. "So what was it that got you caught?"

"I stole a gravestone."

...a what?

"I'm sorry?"

He shrugged. "It was a nice one, and I just wanted it. So I took it. Didn't make it very far, though... The cops caught me before I had even made it half a mile. One of the people living near the graveyard saw me and called them."

"You don't seem so bent out of shape about."

He shrugged again, then pointed to the line of food along the wall. "I like it here. Not too bad, and it gets me away from my parents. I made met my best friend here."

I was actually stunned by that. I thought that most people didn't want to be here, and that it was sort of "hey, it's this place or jail" kind of thing. "You don't... mind being here?"

Jeff nodded. "I never really got along with my parents. They're the upper class kind of people, the ones who go out at night to those extravagant parties and bring over an entire family to introduce me to the family's daughter. I dunno, that just wasn't me. They didn't like it, and they definitely didn't like me being a klepto."

Wow... I suddenly felt sorry for the guy. Was it like that for a lot of the boys here?

I made sure to grab the healthiest of everything that I saw, then followed Jeff to a table where two other boys were sitting, along with Wes. A black boy, then a boy with dark brown hair. "Hey guys," Jeff called out, motioning at me. "This is Kurt. The _new guy."  
><em>

I froze. "You guys don't haze, do you?"

Wes shook his head. "I thought that I made you read the handbook? That's not allowed."

"Oh..."

Well, I felt better.

And quite stupid, but I'll take the feeling better any time over feeling stupid.

I sat down next to Jeff, who pointed at the other two boys. "This person here is David," he said pointing to the black boy. "And this guy is my best friend, Nick," he finished, looking happily over at Nick.

"Hi," I said.

They smiled at me, and then Nick leaned forward. "So what are you in here for?"

Wes reached over and slapped his shoulder. "No asking," he said sharply. "Kurt here is auditioning for the Warblers today, so we'll all find out then."

I shrank slightly as the other two boys stared at me happily. I suddenly felt as though I should have slashed some tires or... something as well. Stealing an ATM? That might have been cool in their books. Not knowing that your so-called friend was stealing an ATM when you attempt to pick him up because you think that he was stranded and then getting caught?

...yeah, not cool at all.

I shook my head. Why was I suddenly feeling as though I had to impress them? All I really want is to just finish my time here and get out. _God_, this place was already affecting me.

There wasn't much talk during lunch, and before I knew it, I was walking out of my last class for the day. Dinner was planned at six thirty, and my last class ended at four fifty. ...And then it came time for the Warblers audition. ...I didn't even have anything prepared.

Well shit.

Jeff was waiting for me outside of my classroom door, that same smile on his face, and so I confided in him that I didn't have anything prepared.

"Don't worry about it," was all he said. "I didn't have one either."

Oh, okay... If he didn't and he still got then, then I guess I'm okay.

I feel great, then.

_**Ten minutes later**_

Me feeling great?

Yeah, that was a load of _bullshit._

There were about fifteen Warblers in the room, all of them staring at me. We were waiting, although what or who we were waiting for I was unsure of. No one was speaking; a few boys were reading books, others were playing cards. Wes was tapping a pencil against the top of the desk that he was sitting at, his head resting on the left side of his head, looking rather pissed. David kept checking his watch, and the boy who had introduced himself as Thad looked like he wanted to throw something.

"Where _is_ he," Wes suddenly hissed out.

David shrugged and Wes sighed, then yelled out, "Trent!"

A boy in the far back of the corner jolted out of his seat. "Yeah?"

"He's your roommate, where is he?"

The boy, Trent, opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment the doors to the room opened and a short boy with black looking hair walked in.

"Hey," he said happily.

No one in the room seemed pleased to see him.

"You're late. Again, Blaine." Wes said, a rather long frown on his face.

Blaine shrugged. "I was talking to my therapist about taking on a tutoring job during the weekends when we aren't performing. Sorry, I didn't think it would take so long."

Wes frowned more, and _oh my god can his face even look that mad? _

"Fine, but just, next time let us know. We have someone auditioning today, and we need the whole group here to listen to him."

Blaine nodded. "Okay, who is auditioning?"

Wes lifted (was that a _gavel?) _his... _gavel_ and pointed at me. "This is Kurt. He's _the new guy._"

Why was everyone calling me _the new guy?_

Blaine turned around, took one glance at me (which I _did _wave at, because just because I'm at _reform school – _fucking Puckerman – doesn't mean that I'm a horrible person. Because I'm not. I may be a bitch but I'm not a horrible person), looked back at Wes, then took a double take; his mouth fell open slightly, and I suddenly felt very self conscious.

"Uh... Hi?"

He lifted his hand and waved quickly, then let it fall down, still staring. Did I have something on my face?

David cleared his throat. "Blaine, this is Kurt Hummel, a countertenor. Kurt? This is Blaine Anderson, our lead."

Blaine lifted his hand and held it out to me. "Hello," he said, sounding more sure of himself.

I took his hand. "Hi, how are you?"

Blaine smiled. He had a rather nice smile. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." He dropped my hand, then took a small step forward. "So what are you in here for?"

I shook my head. "I can't tell yet. I tell after the audition, remember?"

He sighed but nodded, and I couldn't help but ask. "So what are _you _in here for?"

A positively evil grin appeared on his face and he shook his head. "Uh uh, new kid. You're going to have to _wait_ to find that out."

He nodded his head towards the empty seat on the couch and I took it.

"We all try to outdo each other in here. We're supposed tot be practicing all of these nice harmonies-"

"Which we _should _be doing!" Wes called out angrily. "He has to audition!"

Blaine waved his hand. "Any way, we all try to outdo each other. So, let's hear it," he said, motioning at the room.

"I stole a politicians car and then threw rocks through his windows."

"I robbed an entire gas station with a gun. I'm here on parole."

"I shoplifted a few things for my girl; she left me once I got in here though, that bitch."

"I killed a bunch of animals and left them on my neighbors lawn and watched her have a panic attack."

Blaine lifted his hand up, then turned back to Kurt, the smile still on his face. "Well, Kurt? What did you do?"

I curled in on myself slightly, watching as they all seemed to lean in closer to me subconsciously._ Well, here goes nothing_.

"I helped my friend steal an ATM."

There was silence, before a tall blond haired boy spoke up. "I'm sorry, you _what?"_

"I... I helped my friend steal an ATM?"

Each and every one of them took turns glancing at each other and I gulped.

_Fuck you, Puckerman._

_Just – Fuck you._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: <strong>Well, this is just one chapter. If you like, I have more planned, but please let me know what you think!

I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU GUYS. IT MAKES MY DAY, SERIOUSLY.

Oh, and as a side note, I've had a diary like the one Kurt wrote in. It was _awful_.

_Love,_

UO_  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own Glee.**_  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter two<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Diary of Kurt Hummel<strong>_

_**Day two**_

_**Weather: **_...really, I have to do this? Fine, it's _raining_ out, happy?

_**Time: 2027**_

_**Mood: **_I feel like tossing something off of the roof of Dalton. Yay...

Fucking Puckerman. I hate him and I want him to... to (not _die, _because that would be awful. I'm a bitch at times but I'm not _that_ heartless... _sometimes_)... I don't know what I want him to do – get hit by a bus. YES. I want fucking Puckerman to get hit by a bus.

And an ATM.

Fucking Puckerman...

So, anyway, I feel like I need to get a few things straight. Not for the stupid therapist who is going to read this or anything, but just.. Mostly for myself, you know?

Dalton isn't like a "once you're in you loose all of your rights and you have to listen to all of the rules" kind of reform school. It's a school where you have lots of rules and yes, you do have to follow them, but it's like... a school for kids who have gotten out of rehab and are trying to find their footing, I guess.

Maybe I should tell you about what I've learned about one Blaine Anderson?

..yeah, I'll do that.

Well, he's rather interesting. He's a transfer from the juvenile detention center in Westerville, and he will _not_ tell me why he's here. And neither will anyone else. They're all sort of hush-hush when it comes to him, but it's not like he's this horrible guy who goes around beating people up. Blaine... He could be nice when he wanted to, I guess, even though he looks at me oddly and it sort of makes me uncomfortable at times and...

Wait... Why am I writing so much about Blaine Anderson?

Whatever. Fuck Blaine and Puckerman.

…

So, I joined the Warblers.

Turned out I didn't even really have to audition. They asked me what I'd done, I told them, they _laughed at me, (_as in, most of the conversation went like this: _You stole an ATM? Wow, that's _lame_! You must have been awful at trying to be inconspicuous – _Let me just say that my self esteem shot right through the roof with that)then told me I was welcome to join the Warblers and ended the meeting. They run things so fucking weird here. Once I was an "official member" they informed me about them. They were a tight-knit group; they looked after each other, like the mafia. Wes had liked me and that's why the invitation to join had been offered. Normally they didn't give out invitations like that but, according to David (who told me because Wes didn't like to seem like he was actually a nice guy underneath his poker face) that I didn't seem like a backstabber so - I was in.

One thing I learned was that while they were an A Capella group, they didn't actually _want_ to be. Most of them preferred to perform like my old glee club had performed: free, upbeat songs, and not so many harmonies and step-hop-snap dance combinations (they showed me some of their old performances, and while they were actually _amazing_, their dance... Well) See, no one outside of those in Dalton and their families really know that Dalton is a reform school. To others, it looks like a prestigious private school for boys. The blazers, the A Capella glee club, the performances around Westerville and the community service: it was all a way to keep the image of the school. None of the higher staff seemed to even care about the kids in here, and although there were a few members of the staff that did care, there weren't enough.

God, I hate it here, even though I was informed that we get three days out of the week to wear casual clothes – which makes me _very_ happy, because no matter how nice these blazers are, I miss my clothes. My first therapy meeting is scheduled for tomorrow during my lunch hour and... So I get ten minutes to eat, then I have to go and talk to a shrink for fifty minutes. I have to do this about twice a week.

Have I mentioned how much I fucking _hate _Puckerman?

_**End of second entry.**_

_**Don't forget to smile!**_

...

That! That thing that tells me to smile! What is up with that? Seriously! Smile? You want a smile? :D THERE! THERE'S YOUR FUCKING SMILE!

{~*~}

"Blaine Anderson! What is this that I hear about you taking _junior year_ classes?"

Wes had a loud mouth. He used it quite a lot, I was told. Groaning, I lifted my head from by cushion called Biology 101 and blinked over at the door to see Wes holding a book in his hands and looking rather pissed and one Blaine Anderson, standing in the doorway looking bored.

"Blaine, you're supposed to be in our year, even though you had some incompletes from last year, but-"

"Uh, yeah, about that... Do you remember that I said I was taking summer school classes?"

Wes frowned. "Yes, and that's why you are supposed to be a _senior _this year!"

Blaine sighed then walked in, and I was surprised to see that he wasn't holding himself up like he had been when he'd walked into the senior commons yesterday during my 'audition'. He wasn't wearing his blazer, or any of the other uniform acceptable clothes. He was, instead wearing a white, rather tight shirt with a jacket on over it and blue jeans. Casual... Casual looked really good on him actually. Blaine ended up sitting down on Wes' bed with his cheek resting on his hand.

"So yeah, about that whole summer school thing... Did I ever tell you that I didn't go?"

"Blaine!"

None of them seemed to realize that I was there, or that I was awake. Wes started walking over to Blaine, the book in hand. "What is this _really_ about, Blaine - and don't lie to me? We've been friends for a while, so you at least owe me this one honest answer."

Blaine exhaled, then opened his mouth like he was going to start speaking.

I really wanted to know more about Blaine; I had this feeling that there was more to him then he let out, but I'm not _that_ sneaky. I wasn't about to just listen in on this private conversation, even though I was really curious. So, I let out a small moan and watched as both of their heads turned to look at me. "Hey guys," I said, faking a yawn and sitting up straight. "What time is it?"

"Oh, hey, Kurt," Wes said, still glaring at Blaine. "I think it's around midnight, actually." His gaze turned vicious. "Blaine, it's past the curfew, what are you doing in my room?"

Blaine shot him a look, which Wes' frown turned confused, and then something must have hit him because he inhaled and let out an "oh... okay." He sat down next to Blaine and said, "You can stay here tonight so that you won't get caught by the monitors, okay?"

Blaine nodded, then stood up, moved off of Wes' bed and then flopped down on mine, crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

Um... What?"

I stood up and walked over so that I was standing up right above him. I snapped my fingers a few times in his face until he opened one eye to look at me. "Uh, yeah, hi. You're on _my _bed. Please get off."

He shook his head, then turned over on to his side and curled up. "No, I think that I'm going to sleep here tonight."

I stared at him, then turned to face Wes who -

...who was already sleeping.

_Bastard._

I was turning around when Blaine's voice filled the silence. "You're free to sleep with me if you want though."

In the words of my best friend Mercedes, _hell to the no._

Glaring at him I grabbed the comforter and yanked at it; it came out from underneath Blaine quite easily, and he was sent tumbling to the ground, one leg half on the bed and the rest of his body lying on the ground. "Hey!" He yelped. "That hurt!"

"So did you deciding to take my bed. I'll have you know that the bed and I have gone through quite a lot together."

Blaine gave me an upside down, rather loopy smile. "Already christened it then, right? What did you do? Sneak in your girl through the window? Wonder how you got her past the gates."

"The hell? God, you _are_ just another teenaged hormonal boy! And no," I said, picking up the blanket and gathering it in my arms. "I just like this blanket and the mattress. It's comfy. Now get."

He sighed, but sat up on his forearms and stared at me. "So, Kurt Hummel. Tell me about yourself."

I shrugged. "Not much to say," I said, putting the comforter back on the bed and then sitting on it so that he couldn't get back on the bed. "My name is Kurt. My last name is Hummel. That is me, in a nut shell."

Blaine sat up straight and placed his arms on the blanket, then let his head rest on them. "Well that's very... bland. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

I glared at him and curled my legs underneath me. "Why do you want to know so much about me? It's not like you never get new guys coming in rarely."

He continued to stare at me, and then blurted, "You're pretty."

_Oh...kay?_

"Thanks?"

He smiled. "No, really. I think you're pretty and I want to get to know you better."

I blinked at him. "That's it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. There's no deep reason, like I feel as though you're the other half of my soul or any of that shit, I just think you're pretty. I happen to like pretty people."

"So... You're gay?"

"Yeah, pretty much. You?"

"Uh huh..."

Why were we talking like this? I mean, I had just admitted that I was gay and he had told me he was gay as well.

Well this was turning out to be a rather interesting conversation.

"Okay, so _just_ because we found out that we're both gay doesn't mean that we're _the best of buddies_."

He let out a laugh that was actually quite cute; I smiled. "I know, I know. I was just giving us something to talk about." He pushed himself up so that he was standing, but leaning his weight on the bed. The mattress sagged underneath his weight. "But I did mean it when I said that I'd like to get to know you better. What say you we... Go out to the nice diner around the way and talk for a while?"

My smile grew, but not in happiness. It was more like confusion. "Did you just ask me out?"

His smirk grew. "I did, in fact. Like I said, I think you're pretty."

"Yeah, you said that. Few times, in fact."

His smile vanished. "Why do I get the feeling that you haven't heard that a lot?"

I shrugged, not exactly sure why I felt like it was okay to talk to him; he was the kind of guy that was able to ease you into conversation, whether you wanted to talk or not. "I wasn't..._liked_ at my old school."

I hadn't been – at all. In fact, until I had joined the glee club I hadn't even had friends. No one wanted to get to know the _gay kid_.

It wasn't until I felt a hand on my cheek did I realize that I had said the last thought out loud. "You _do_know that there's a no bullying policy here, right?"

"And is that in place out of the goodwill for the students, or...?"

He shrugged, his thumb sweeping back and forth along my cheek; to be honest, it wasn't giving me a loving feeling. It was actually making my cheek itch. "It's enforced by most of the students. Because if you get marks on your record here, there's a chance you can be sent to a detention center, and none of use actually _want _to go there. Or go back, you know. They're not much fun."

I leaned forward, trying to see if there was a way that I could play this. "So, if we're trying to get to know each other, why don't you tell me why _you're _here? You already know why I'm here." His thumb kept moving, so I frowned. "Your hand on my face... It's annoying and you're getting in my personal space. I don't like it when people are in my personal space without permission. Take it off, or I'll remove it for you."

At this he started laughing and removed his hand, and I was surprised to find out that I missed his touch – if just by a little bit.

...maybe.

"Um, no, I'm not going to tell you. You have to _earn _it," he whispered, completely ignoring my warning before standing up straight and putting the dopey smile back on. "Can I at least have a pillow? Maybe a sheet?"

Rolling my eyes I reached behind me and tossed him a pillow. "There, enjoy." Then I reached over and turned off the light, watched Blaine settled down on the floor, then rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

And so I was rather surprised when I woke up the next morning and found Blaine curled up next to me, seeing as I know that he had fallen asleep on the floor. So, I did what any nice person would do in the situation. I kicked him until he fell off of the bed, then forced him out of the room.

_Fucking Puckerman!_

{~*~}

His gaze had been on my back for half of biology and, to be honest, it was unnerving.

He was following me when I got up to leave the class room, and he even followed me down the hall during the lunch hour. His gaze on me was becoming quite uncomfortable, but I didn't really know what to do to get him to leave me alone. He hadn't actually _done_ anything yet, so I couldn't say that he was harassing me or bullying. He was just... _looking_.

I didn't know what was worse, being harassed? Or just being _stared_ at.

It wasn't until I was heading to math that he actually did do something.

I was turning the corner, dreading the fact that my math teacher was one of those who liked to talk, for as long as he could, in a monotone voice when an arm shot out and grabbed my shoulder and forcibly pulled me back. I let out a gasp of shock as I hit the person's chest because _ow_. That had _hurt_.

He placed his other hand on my shoulder and turned me and then I was finding myself staring at his eyes. The first thing I noticed? It wasn't the fact that he was tall, strong looking, or had strangely nice eyes for being violent. It was that he had a piece of spinach on his upper lip.

Ew.

His grip tightened on my arm as he leaned in closer and I subconsciously moved my upper body back. "Can I help you?"

"Listen, kid. You're too nice, and here, if you're too nice, _things_ happen," he breathed down my neck, and I had to admit that I was slightly worried by the tone of his voice. I tried not to look too much at the piece of spinach, because if I did I was pretty sure that I'd start laughing, and that wouldn't help my situation at all.

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't even _be _here. I'm not _supposed_ to be here," I hissed, then yanked my arm out of his grasp and turned, wanting to get away.

He seemed to have other ideas, though. My arm was grabbed again and I was yanked back against his chest once more. "Sure, you're not supposed to be here. _None_ of us are supposed to be here, but yet, here we are. It's eat or be eaten here, whether you like it or not and as you are, you aren't going to survive, even if you have the protection of the Warblers."

_Even if you have the protection of the Warblers. ..._what?

He yanked my arm again, and the grip he had on it was starting to hurt. "Let me go," I said, my tone slightly icy.

He let out a laugh that made my stomach churl. "You wanna know what I'm doing here? As in here, in Dalton?" he whispered. "I beat people up, for _fun_. At first it was just self defense, you know. A couple of seniors from my high school didn't like me and thought that it would be good to _teach me a lesson."_

His grip tightened on my arm and I let out a groan of pain. He was _strong_ and it was getting scary.

"I didn't like that they'd done that to me. I've always had some sort of problem with anger management, but what they did ticked me off so much... I got back at them. It took a while, obviously, but eventually I got them back, one by one, and it felt _good_."

His grip was steadily getting tighter and I was sure that it was going to bruise. Biting my lip I tore my arm away and took a few steps back, glaring at him. "What is your problem? God, do you have _any _braincells left in your body?"

He was grinning at me. "I just wanted to let you know that I don't like you," he said happily. But then his eyes darkened and a rather large frown appeared on his face. "I don't like you _at all_."

He leaned forward for me again, his arm outstretched and his eyes burning with something I couldn't make of; I took a step back, ready to run if I needed it. I'd seen this glare in someone's eyes only once, and I'd seen it on Dave Karofsky, but neanderthal that would love to push me into lockers, make me trip, toss me in dumpsters and would occasionally try to get me to fall down the stairs. He'd only have that look in his eyes when he was aiming to hurt me, and it scared me to see the gaze in this guy's eyes. I took another step back, preparing to bolt (I'm not a scaredy-cat. Sometimes running is smarter and better than staying and fighting; I've been forced to learn that over the years, and it's been hard, because when it came to fight or flight, my compass had always been pointed to fight), but just as his arm got closer to me, and arm shot out of nowhere, grabbed onto the guy's shoulder and yanked him around.

The guy turned sharply, tripping over his own feet, then glared at the person who had grabbed him. "What the _hell, _Anderson?"

I took the chance to peak around him and almost gasped when I saw Blaine standing there, his eyes angry and a mad frown on his face, looking tiny compared to the other guy.

"Leave him alone, Jenson. Back the fuck away and leave him alone."

Jenson let out a bark of laughter. "Listen, I know that you Warblers look out for each other, but fuck off." He turned his head and my eyes caught his. "He looked at me funny."

He took one step, as though he was going to turn around to face me when Blaine's fist decided to get friendly with his jaw.

Well.

...Well then, okay...

Jenson took a small step back, then twisted around and threw his fist at Blaine; it hit Blaine's cheek and with the look that Blaine gave him when he lifted his reddening face I could tell this was going to be a rather big fight. Now, something about me is that I do not like fights when they're about me – at all. My stepbrother, Finn, almost got into a fight with Karofsky about him bullying me and no matter how noble it was, I still didn't like it. I can take care of myself.

There was a split second where they just stared at each other before they lunged forward, fists flying and grunts filling the air. God, can't people just let me take care of my things myself? I took a step forward, but was pulled back by a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Jeff holding me back .

"Jeff-"

He shook his head. "This was a long time coming, just let them fight it out."

I stared at him for a while before turning my attention back to the fight. A small crowed had already formed, most boys pumping the air and others chanting 'fight, fight, fight' as Jenson and Blaine fell to the ground in a messy tangle of limbs and fists.

"Anderson, Jenson!"

I looked over my shoulder to see Larry the security guard storming down the halls, a frown on his face and a clipboard in his hands.

_Shit_.

Shrugging Jeff's hand off of my shoulder I took three steps forward so that I was standing where the two boys were rolling on the ground and counted, trying to find the right to time reach in and grab-

They rolled over once more and as Blaine's smaller form appeared on top of the pile I reached out with both hands and snatched the back of it and pulled. Blaine came back with more force then I had planned and he collided with me and we fell back to the ground, with Blaine sprawled on top of me.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, then pushed him off of me when he nodded. He had a split lip and a rather nice shiner appearing over his left eye. "That's going to start hurting soon," I said softly, reaching a hand up to touch it. He flinched back, though.

"It'll be fine. Don't worry," he said. Then he grabbed my shoulder. We stood up together and watched Jenson regain his footing.

He had a split lip and a few bruises forming on his face, but he was smirking as he shook his head, laughing softly under his breath. "Oh, Anderson... I've always wanted a reason to beat you up."

Blaine looked like he was going to answer but I got there before him. "I'm pretty sure that you have, but you know? I've always wanted a pony, but I never got one. I guess that would explain all of the rage that's been building up inside of us, right? My anger at not getting a pony as a child is just so – it's so... I just want to punch something right now because I'm so angry." I glared up at Jenson and took a step forward. "So, let's make a deal. Let's both find some very good anger management classes and work through this built up frustration that we have because we've never actually gotten what we want, or we could just turn around, walk away and pretend this never happened. What'll it be?"

Jenson's eyes flickered back and forth between me, Blaine, and Larry (who was still storming down the hall, but sure taking his sweet time about it) a few times before he let out a growl and turned around, doing his own version of Storming Down a Hall.

I had to say that he did a much better version of it than Larry.

I watched him go, having an odd feeling that Santana would have been proud of me, then turned back to see Blaine giving me a smirk. "What?"

"I knew there was a reason that I like you."

I shrugged, but then I got a good look at his eye again and sighed. "Come one," I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "You need to put some ice on that quickly."

He didn't protest at all, and before I left I made sure to have Jeff tell the teacher that I "had a stomach ache and felt like I was going to throw up and I didn't think that it would be pretty to do that in class, on the carpet". He didn't seem like he wanted to do it, but eventually gave in when I said that I'd help tutor him in his French class, because I'm fluent and awesome like that.

...and he's not doing so well, and honestly? The boy needs as much help as he can get.

"You're holding my hand," Blaine suddenly spoke up as we turned the corner and headed into the empty lunch room. "I like it."

I dropped his hand quickly then turned and glared. "We need to get some ice on that."

"Yes, you said that already," he said, his voice turning to his lower octave and sounding slightly husky.

I flipped him off, then slipped into the actual kitchen area, making a beeline to the freezer. At the bottom of the freezer I found an ice pack; I picked it up, then closed the freezer door quickly and turned to Blaine, motioning for him to come in. He didn't come in automatically, hovering in the doorway. I rolled my eyes. "Seriously? What happened to the Blaine Anderson who socked Jenson just a few minutes ago?"

He sighed, but took the few steps needed to reach me and allowed me to slam the ice pack on his eye. "Ow! Kurt, what the-"

I held up a finger, then move the ice pack down a bit softly. "First of all, you're an idiot for hitting him. Second of all," I said quickly when he opened his mouth to speak. "I don't like it when people try to talk when I'm speaking to them."

His mouth closed.

Good boy.

"Third of all... even though I don't like it when people fight in my name... Thank you," I said, giving him a small smile.

He stared at me through his one eye for a while, but eventually a small smirk appeared on his face. "Who said that it was in your name?"

In response I moved the ice pack upwards harshly.

"Ow!"

"Be nice."

Blaine slid down in his seat slightly, then let out a sigh. "Well, since it was in your name, I say that you owe me for protecting your face."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean my arm? He never touched my face."

Blaine frowned. "I bet he would have," he muttered darkly.

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head, then sat up straight again. "Go to dinner with me. We get time on the weekends to go out into the town as long as we're back by curfew and if there aren't any marks on us."

I sighed, thinking it over. He _had_ attempted to do something noble, and he _was_ rather cute. "Alright, fine," I said, without really thinking.

He froze at the same time that I did.

_Wait, what?_

A smile broke out on his face. "Great, I'll let you know where we're going sometime later this week," he said, taking the ice pack away from his eye and standing up. "See ya, Kurt!" He waved as he sauntered out of the room.

I watched him go, my mouth probably so open that it was touching the ground. I couldn't believe it.

_I had just agreed to go on a date with Blaine fucking Anderson._

I tossed the ice pack to the ground, then slumped heavily in the chair Blaine had previously been in, my head falling heavily in my hands.

_Fucking Puckerman!_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's notes: <em>**And that was chapter two.

I've decided that I'm going to make this story have two arcs, so yay! It'll be twice as long!

You guys, this story is making me excited to write again. I'd lost my motivation, but this one is bringing it back! Party! *\O/*

Anyway, please let me know what you think about this one!

And a special thanks to my beta, the lovely mrsharryjamespotter. _go read her stuff she's amazing, omg._

Lots of love and sugary items,

UO**_  
><em>**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own Glee.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter three<strong>_

_**Diary of Kurt Hummel**_

_**Day three**_

_**Weather: **_The clouds are puking happiness and light right now (I swear, there's an actual _rainbow _outside my window) and it's _disgusting_.

_**Time: 1732**_

_**Mood: **_Fuck you, diary.

Dear Diary,

I, one Kurt Hummel, am a very, _very_ concerned student.

After having spent almost a week at Dalton Academy, the Reform school for boys (who just, you know, happen to be sons of incredibly powerful and rich men), I have noticed a few things that are slightly... odd.

Odd thing number one: We get to go out to the town on weekends.

(Because, you know, all reform schools let their charges out on the weekends to run amok and do who knows what out there.)

Odd thing number two: Nice meals.

(I get that this is a rather nicely funded facility, but really? I had _steak_ with _salad _last night_, _along with an appetizer course of bread and mussels before the actual course.)

Odd thing number three: the faculty seem to turn a blind eye to things that happen in the hallways.

(I swear that I saw some kid selling something that was most _definitely_ not plain old brownies to another kid yesterday.)

Odd thing number four: Blaine Anderson.

(He wants to go on a date with me. That's odd enough to warrant him a number in the list.)

Odd thing number five: Blaine Anderson's hair.

(Does he _really_ need that much hair gell? Although, I now know what I'll use if I ever get stuck on an island with him and need to light a fire. But really, has anyone ever told him that all you need is a drop the size of a dime? Yes? No?)

Odd thing number six: The Warblers.

(After what Jenson told me, about being _protected by the Warblers_ I've been wondering about them.)

Odd thing number seven: Blaine Anderson.

(...Just because I can.)

This school... It's just so weird and I blame Puckerman (fucking Puckerman! I hope that no one lets him eat any waffles while he's in juvy – I know that he loves his waffles). This school is just not normal. At all. It's kind of creepy if you actually sit down and think about it. Teachers only teaching and not caring about what goes down in the halls, students doing what they want... Actually, it sort of sounds like McKinley...

Well shit.

Fuck you, Puckerman!

You know, Puckerman is a good thing to blame everything on.

Huh... I think that I might start doing that.

Get a bad grade on an assignment? Blame Puckerman.

Can't get a boyfriend? Blame Puckerman.

Got sent to a reform school? Blaine Puckerman.

...Blaine Puckerman? He's even taking over my blaming Puckerman thing!

Fuck you, Blaine Anderson!

…

Di, can I be honest with you?

(of course you can be honest, Kurt. It's a _diary)_

Okay, well, here it goes: I miss my family.

Like, I _really_ miss my family. I miss my dad and his horrible taste in clothes and how, when I told him the truth about what happened with Puckerman and the ATM he believed me. He did not think, _not once_, that I was lying. I miss his attempts at cooking breakfast and our meals being saved by Carole every time Dad attempts to pick up a whisk.

I miss Carole and her breakfasts and when she would drive me and Finn to school because my car wasn't working and I hadn't found the time to look at it. I miss giving her advice on what to wear when my dad would surprise her with a night out.

And, to be honest, I even miss Finn and all his awkwardness.

Yeah, Di. I _really_ miss my family. Every single one of them.

Even though we don't have good furniture. Our furniture is kind of squeaky.

...

I'm tired, Di. I got about three hours of sleep last night. Maybe that's why my thoughts are so scattered today.

Maybe.

Why did I not get enough sleep last night? Blaine Anderson. And I'll leave it at that.

…

Well, see, Di, Blaine has just been bugging me lately. I mean, he actually _wants_ to take me out on a date. As in _me._ Kurt Hummel. Am I the only one seeing the problem here? No guy would ever want to do that. I mean... I'm _me_. Is that making sense at all?

No?

I guess I'm just having a hard time believing that someone would actually want to take me out.

And no, I can't blame Puckerman for that.

Even though, at the moment, I kind of wish I could.

Maybe I should just give him a shot, you know? He seems like a rather nice guy, he's gay, and (even though it actually hurts my heart valves to write this down and admit it outloud) he's... he's good looking, okay? He is _very_ good looking, and even though he wears a lot of hair gel it looks good on him. It makes him look all _dapper_ and sophisticated and shit. And the blazer really looks good on him. Like, _really_ good and-

...And I'm talking about Blaine Anderson. _Again_.

Fuck you, Puckerman.

_**End of third entry.**_

_**Don't forget to smile!**_

No. No smiling. No. I refuse. I absolutely _refuse_. Kurt Hummel _will not_ be smiling today. :(

{~*~}

"So... After reading your first few entries I have to say, Kurt... You have a lot of anger."

I rolled my eyes and brought my folded arms closer to my chest, folding my legs and letting out a huff. I have a lot of anger? I'm in a _reform school_ when I'm _not supposed to be. _Is that a legitimate reason to have a lot of anger? I feel that it is.

Her name was Susie Lawrenthal, and she was my therapist.

She was sitting with her legs crossed, wearing a spray on tan and an outfit that screamed "Naughty Librarian". Her hair was cut to a bob and she was wearing glasses that reminded me of the glasses that Mercedes wore when she had been reading for a long time. "I understand that you're not happy being placed here, but this truly is the best place for you."

Oh, Mercedes. How I miss her. I can't forget the last time that she and I decided to hang out. IT had been a day long event: all day at the mall – fall sale event. Her outfit had been _amazing_ (all thanks to my direction over the phone), and we'd spent the entire day at the mall, watching people come in and out with their bags and their horrendous outfits.

Oh, the good times.

"- and while making this transition will be hard-"

It had been really hard to leave all of my friends. I adore them, and they were the first friends that I'd ever had; Mercedes, Tina, and Artie were the first three, and I hold them dear to my heart. To be honest, having friends had been difficult at first. Going through most of school without any and then suddenly having some because you joined a club is kind of shocking. Like, one day I would check my phone out of habit to see if _someone_ had sent me a message or something, and then the next I had texts messages from those three and friend requests on facebook from them.

It was awkward.

I don't like awkward, unless it's happening to Rachel, and then I like it.

"- but there are a lot of nice community services offered here that will help-"

Oh Rachel Berry...

"Kurt."

I shook my head and looked up at my therapist. She was frowning, her legs crossed tighter and one finger resting on her lips. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry."

I wasn't.

She smiled. "No, you're not, but it's okay. I understand that you don't want to be here, in my office, and also that you don't want to be here." She looked down at the file in her lap and flipped through a few pages. "To be honest," she muttered, and I could tell that I wasn't supposed to actually be able to hear here. "I don't quite understand why you're here myself..."

"Excuse me?"

Her head shot up. "Oh, no... Just ignore that; I was just thinking out loud." She closed my file then sent me a surprisingly honest smile. "So, to go back to what I'd been talking about while you blocked me out-"

I lowered my head slightly.

"-have you thought about what you're going to do for the community service that you need to do?"

"I joined the Warblers."

She nodded. "That's great, Kurt. The Warblers do a lot of community service even during the performance season. I do hope that you'll enjoy it." She let out a hum. "Well, our time is up, actually."

I perked up. "Really?"

"Yes, this is just the pre-meeting, so that I can meet up with you and you can give me your journal," she said, holding my book up. "I'll have it back to you sometime tomorrow. You're free to leave."

I stood up and grabbed my bag. "I'll see you later then?"

She nodded. "I'll bring your journal to you during your lunch period. See you then, Kurt, and don't forget to make another appointment for next week."

I gave her a halfhearted wave goodbye and headed out of the room. It's not that I have anything against therapists, I just don't like talking about my feelings. Most people do talk about their feelings when they go to therapists, but then again, they are not me. So, you know, whatever.

There were only a few students wandering around the halls, seeing as how the bell for the last class had sounded five minutes previous. I sighed and tightened the grip I had on the strap of my bag and began to walk towards the hall where my next class was located.

"Hi, Kurt!"

I turned, waved at the person who had called out to me, turned again, then had to do a double take. "Uh... Jeff?"

Jeff was smiling at me, half of his face teeth and sunshine. He was also wearing a Statue of Liberty outfit.

_What the hell?_

"Um... Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"What's with the getup?"

Jeff glanced down at his outfit and let out a small, "oh yeah," and then reached up and took off the crown. "It's part of my community service. I volunteered to wave the sign for this bank while wearing this outfit to attract customers. Free of charge, of course."

I stared. _More community-_"But Jeff, doesn't being in the Warblers cover the needed community service?"

He nodded, then motioned over at one of the benches along the wall; we sat down together and he sighed. "I'm trying to get some more in so that I can go home. I have a time slot to meet with the judge on Friday, so hopefully everything goes good then."

Okay, what?

"I'm sorry, Jeff, but I don't think that I understand all of this fully. You told me that you liked it here?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I do; it beats having to see my mom and dad all of the time, but while I don't like my mom or dad, I _really_ miss my little twin sisters," he said softly, fiddling with the crown in his hands. "I miss them, so much. It was their birthday last week, but I wasn't allowed to see them. My parents won't let me get close to them until I'm out of here, and in order to do that I have to get cleared by my therapist and the judge."

Oh.

Oh, Okay. I see.

...Sort of.

"And by doing more community service-"

"It looks good on the evaluations. A good evaluation _should_ get you out of here. It's why the Warblers do so many nursing home performances."

Wait...

"'Should'?"

Jeff sighed, then reached up and placed the Liberty Crown back on his head. "You only get a good evaluation if your therapist thinks that you're ready to leave, but-" he bit his lip. "People who've gotten good evaluations haven't been getting released. The judge doesn't give the okay."

"So let me see if I have this right. You get a good evaluation from your therapist that says you're ready to leave, but then you get to the judge and-"

"The judge won't clear you. It's happened to me once, and Wes, and Blaine-"

Wait, what? "Blaine too?"

"Oh, crap!" Jeff wailed, turning a nice pale color. "I wasn't supposed to say that. You weren't supposed to know – wasn't my place to tell-"

"Jeff, sto-"

"And he'll get mad at me and never help me with my urges to take things and-"

"Jeff!"

"What?"

I took hold of his shoulders and made him look at me. "Calm down. It's okay."

Jeff looked like he was going to start crying, which was, honestly, kind of freaky. "No, it's not. Blaine's a great guy, and I just told you something that he didn't want you to know. He doesn't want you to think badly of him."

I blinked. _Huh?_

"Jeff, I've only been here for a few days. Why would he not want me to think badly of him?"

"Because, Kurt. He really likes you. He _sees_something in you, I guess. Said something about how he likes that you don't take any shit and you're your own person." Jeff took a deep breath, then looked me in the eyes with an incredibly serious look on his face. "Give him a chance, okay?"

And with that Jeff stood up. "I need to head on over to my service now. I'll see you in Warbler rehearsal! Bye Kurt!"

I didn't even really watch him leave, too busy thinking about what he'd told me about Blaine. Maybe... Maybe Blaine really was an okay guy. I guess that I'd just have to wait and see. Sighing, I stood up and tightened my grip on my bag. It was time to go to class.

Sadly.

My next class was math, which I hated. I had never liked math. It was just awful: I don't know anyone in my class, let alone anyone outside of the Warblers (and I even didn't really know them much, only Jeff, Wes, and a little side dash of David and Nick because they're close with Jeff and Wes. And then Blaine. Yeah, sure, he can be on the list). A few people have said hi, but with what Jeff had just told me, I figured that most of the kids here were attempting to leave Dalton.

Not that I blamed them at all.

I walked into class with my head held high like I always do. It was then that I spotted a head full of hair gel and almost stopped walking. _Blaine Anderson was in my math class?_

Why hadn't I noticed that before?

There was an empty seat next to him. A few, actually. Biting my lip I debated, sighed, then made my decision and walked towards where he was sitting. I slid into the seat next to him and placed my math book on the desk top. I was beginning to pull out my notebook when Blaine seemed to realize that I was sitting next to him. When I looked over, he was staring at me with an opened mouth. "Hi," I whispered.

"Oh... um, hi," he whispered back.

"Do you... Do you mind if I sit with you?"

When Blaine shook his head I gave him a smile, then turned back to the board. "What page are we on?"

He didn't respond for a while, but then suddenly cleared his voice and reached over to flip my book to the page we were supposed to be on. "123," he said softly. "So... How was your first appointment?"

I shrugged. "It was okay,"

He let out a really soft laugh. "Yeah, that's how they always go. Who do you have?"

"Susie."

"Oh, I like her."

"She was okay."

Blaine gave me a lopsided grin that reminded me heavily of a puppy, then turned to look back at the board. I was planning on asking him about what Jeff said, but decided against it at the last second. If he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. And I can be patient with things like that. I can... I _can_.

Five minutes later Blaine tilted his head towards me and whispered, "Thanks for sitting next to me."

I glanced around at the few empty seats then back at Blaine, suddenly feeling bad for silently judging him in my mind. Maybe he didn't have that many friends at Dalton. "Hey, you're taking me out this weekend," I said, sitting up straight and glancing at him out of the side of my eyes. "Sitting by you is the least that I could do."

Blaine gave me that puppy dog smile again; It was rather adorable. Then he leaned over and nudged my arm. I tried to ignore the slight tingling feeling I got from it. "Well thank you, Kurt Hummel. I do believe that this class is going to be _incredibly_ more interesting."

I gave him a smile back. "I'm glad that I could do this for you."

"Now I have something pretty to look at all of the time in this class."

Wait, what?"

"Okay, class," our teacher suddenly called out. "Now, since last year many people had some trouble with actually _doing_ their homework, as well as trouble _turning it in_, look to the person sitting next to you."

I looked back over at Blaine.

The smug smile on his face was actually _hurting _me.

"Meet your new _study buddy,_" she said with a drastic roll of her eyes.

No.

No!

_No._

_**No!**_

_**No fucking way.**_

"That person is now your homework partner for the rest of the year. Enjoy. And now, continuing from the last lesson-"

Blaine Anderson was my _what_?

"So, looks like we'll be spending a lot of time together, huh? I had a feeling if I was sitting alone that you'd come and sit by me," Blaine said with a wink and a smirk that was positively horrid.

He'd played me.

And he'd done a good job of it as well.

Shit.

I turned to look at my book, a rather nice 'I'm going to destroy everything that you hold dear and not give one single fuck about it' face on. This was all Puckerman's fault.

Fuck you, Puckerman.

Just... fuck you to _hell_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>_I'm sorry, guys! I didn't mean to take this long in updating, but this chapter just _wouldn't _come out. At all. I just got so furious with it so I started working on an outline for another multi-chaptered story: I'm going to write a transformers!Klaine (the movie verse) story! Whoo! It won't be out for a while, because I like to have at least five to ten chapters fully written before I post them.

...yeah. I don't even know anymore. *le shrug

But yeah, I apologize that this chapter sucks so much (I know that it sucks, but still, feel free to tell me how sucky it was in a review please! Or a pm. Or a tumblr message. Any of those will do) :/ But now that it's out and done I can get to the ~exciting parts! Like the date. And ~study buddy times. And the d r a m a. BECAUSE WHAT IS A FIC WITHOUT SOME DRAMA, RIGHT?

But yeah, next chapter is the date and also, Kurt gets more confused about Dalton, because it's a confusing school.

Anyway, again, I'm sorry it took so long to update! I love you all,

UO


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Glee.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Notebook that I'm supposed to be using to write notes down but I'm not because I don't have my journal back yet,<em>

Blaine Anderson is a manipulative bastard. Damn him! For some odd reason, I didn't have trouble picturing him as best friends with Santana. Like, I could see them laughing and I can see Blaine playing with her hair, as scary as that is image is. Santana, having a best friend? _That_ is a scary image. Well, anyway, back to Blaine Anderson. I didn't notice this before, but he's in my history class, as well as my English class; he was _everywhere_.

It was annoying, like really, Notebook.

No matter how attractive he was, he would still be a manipulative bastard.

Like Puck.

_Fucking Puckerman_.

...but, there's something about him that has me all confused: Blaine Anderson only smiles when he is being talked to. I've seen him just... walking around, with his head down, and a grip so tight on his books that his hands are white. He's just... He's odd, because he seems so _nice_ all of the time, but then again, he's _here_. If he really is as nice as he seems, then why is he _here_?

...well, whatever. I guess I'll just have to learn about that some other time.

So, my lovely notebook that I'm not using for notes, there are two things on my list today: my stupid date with _Blaine Anderson_ (but I'm trying not to think about that very much), but also Jeff's trial with the judge. He better get out, Notebook.

He better. And if he doesn't?

Fuck you, Puckerman!

{~*~}

Blaine was sitting in the senior commons room when I walked in, ready to meet up for our math date (which, sadly, wasn't our real _date_, even though I wanted it to be). He had his math book out on the coffee table, his notebook open and balancing on his thigh, pencil placed on the paper – even his eyebrows were furrowed. He looked... like a normal school boy, and if I'd never met him or knew what Dalton really was, I would have thought of him to be a normal and not manipulative boy.

Giving out an inaudible sigh, I started walking towards him. When I got closer to him, I realized that he was talking to himself, reading out loud what the book was saying. I was surprised to find that I thought that it was adorable. Absolutely adorable. As I continued to get closer, I could see the expression on his face and had to hold back my laugh.

"...Tony wants to buy seven hundred turkey breasts – _what_? Using this equation, figure out... _what he'd use the turkey breasts for? The hell?_"

"It's a misprint," I said suddenly, trying to keep the laugh out of my voice. Blaine's head turned around sharply, and the smile he gave me kind of took my breath away. In that second, he was completely beautiful.

But then he opened his mouth and was beautiful no more.

"How do you know that?"

...Okay, he was still_ sort of _beautiful.

I shrugged my shoulders, but walked over and stood near the couch that he was sitting on. "I had this math book back at McKinely. I saw that one and asked my teacher about it. She said it was a misprint, so I decided to go with it."

"Ah," he said, looking back down at the math book, his brow still furrowed slightly. "It's odd, though," he said softly.

"What's odd?"

He looked back up at me, a rather sad smile on his face; it took me for surprise. "That you're here. Talking to me."

Huh?

He let out a defeated sigh. "After that stupid stunt in math... I didn't even know if you would want to even speak to me again."

I cocked my head to the side. "Yeah, about that. If you wanted me to be your math partner, then why didn't you just _ask_?"

He shrugged. "When we were told that we were going to be getting math partners I knew that I wanted you to be mine; I _like_ you. But I wasn't sure about what _you_ wanted so I figured if you didn't have a choice in the matter, it would be better. I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I'm used to having to fight and claw and manipulate my way through to get what I wanted. I had to do that a lot at home."

"And what you want somehow includes me?" I was blown away when he nodded. "Huh," I said, walking over so that I could sit down next to him. "But, Blaine," I said, still rather confused. "You don't even _know _me that well and-"

"I actually sort of do..." he mumbled.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Now, Kurt, don't be mad. Like I said, I'm used to having to claw and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, but _con. Tin. Ue._"

"I stole and read your file," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

What?

"What?"

"Well, to be more accurate, I had _Jeff_ steal it, then I read it, then he put it back."

"Blaine!"

He threw his hands up in the air. "I just wanted to know more about you, okay? I don't always think straight when I'm like that!"

I let out another sigh. "Blaine," I said softly. "I don't think we should go on this date-"

His face hardened before I got the chance to finish it. He closed his notebook slowly and placed it on top of his math book; the pencil soon followed after. "If that's what you want," he said slowly, and I felt the urge to smack him upside the head.

"You didn't let me finish," I said harshly. "I don't know much about you; you, _unfortunately_, know more about me. I was _going_ to say we should stay here and get to know each other instead of going out to dinner." I didn't mention that I didn't want to leave the school because I was confused about the rules here. How many reform schools just let their charges leave?

Blaine let out a breath. "So, you're still okay with us – just the two of us – doing something tonight?"

I nodded and he gave me that breathtaking smile.

"Good, because I wouldn't have let you say no," he said, smirking.

And he lost points in the "Hey! I'm really _not_ a manipulative bastard" section. I rolled my eyes. "Well, we _can_ still go out if you really want to, but-"

"What the hell are you two doing in here?"

We both turned around and I had to hold back my groan when I saw that it was Jenson standing in the doorway, thankfully with less food in his mouth. But no matter how tall he was, or how blond and perfect his hair was, he was still ugly.

_Not like Blaine_.

Oh, well then.

"What do you want, Jenson," Blaine hissed out. I was taken aback at how much venom was in his voice. I reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, surprised when he leaned into it and seemed to relax just a little bit.

Jenson glared. "My perfect little record was ruined because of you two. Now I have to start over before I can go see the judge – get a clean slate." He let out a scoff. "She thinks I'm jealous of you guys. As if."

Why? Because neither of us were mental patients or belong in straight jackets and quarantined in a mental institution?

I took me a second to realize that I'd said that out loud.

Whoops.

Jenson's face was slightly red, his hands curled into fists and his eyes bulging. "You have nerves, you freak! I swear to god," he said, taking a few large steps so that he was standing close to where we were sitting on the couch. "I catch you alone and I'll-"

Blaine's sudden move to stand up and over me ended up knocking me back farther on to the couch. "Like hell you'll ever get him alone," he growled out.

Wow.

_Down, Blaine, down!_

Jenson let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, look. Anderson's defending his boyfriend. How _adorable_." Then he became more serious, which was (I'm not going to lie) was a funny transition to watch; his face schooling back into straight lines and the such. "What are you going to do? Beat me up?"

As I sat up to get them both to stop (I can fight my own battles!) I saw Blaine's face harden. It was... scary how pissed he looked. "You know that I can," he whispered.

Whoa. Um..._what_?

Jenson seemed to slouch for a while before he took a step back. Eventually he huffed out, "Fuck both of you," and left the room.

A minutes later, Blaine was still standing there, stiff and his hands in fists. "Blaine," I called out cautiously, not wanting to shock him. Blaine deflated, then let himself fall back down on to the couch, breathing heavily. "Blaine?"

"_God_, I hate it when I get like that," he yelled out, suddenly looking stressed and panicked. "He's one of the few people that can make me get mad like that and – he just riled me up so much! I never wanted you to see that, Kurt, and – god, he just suck a _dick_ and I hate him – but I'm not always like that, Kurt! I'm rather nice, actually and-"

His breathing was beginning to scare me; he was taking large, uneven breath in, and not breathing out enough, so I grabbed his hand and placed it against my chest. "Blaine – _Blaine_! Breathe with me, okay?" I said, taking in a deep breath before letting it out evenly. It took a few minutes, but eventually his breathing evened out and his skin returned to its normal color.

He sighed, then slumped against me. "Thank you," he said softly.

I shrugged and let go of his hand. "I didn't want you to have a panic attack. They're horrible."

He gave out another little sigh, then let his hand drop, but pressed his face closer to my neck. I was surprised by how much I actually _liked_ the feel of him this close to me. "Kurt I-" he drew off. I waited. "I get-" he stopped, then inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

I let out the breath that I hadn't known I'd been holding. I had thought that he was going to tell me something about himself, but apparently he wasn't ready. Okay, then. "It's okay, Blaine."

I don't really know why I was so upset, but I had really wanted him to let me know more about him, but I guess that I'd have to earn that. Blaine was different, and I was surprised to find out that I genuinely wanted to know more about him.

Blaine let out another sigh. "It's really not, but I have a feeling that no matter what I say you'll disagree with me on that, so I'll stop."

"Good. You're learning," I said, reaching over to my bag so that I could grab my math book. "Do you want to get started on this? We need to get this assignment done, and I don't want to fail this class."

Blaine nodded and reached for his notebook. "I got half of the assignment done, but..." He frowned. "I still do want to go on this date with you, if that's okay."

I glanced down at my book, biting my lip and gripping the covers of the book tightly. I... Did I want to go on the date? Did I want to go out with him?

_Yes_.

I looked back up at him and gave him a small smile. "Sure, why not? What did you have planned?"

The smile he gave me was absolutely _breathtaking_.

Shit.

{~*~}

_**Dear mental diary that I am now using because I can't find my math notebook and I really need to say something right now,**_

I AM FREAKING OUT.

LIKE REALLY, FREAKING OUT.

Why am I freaking out, mental diary?

I have a date, in an hour, _a date. _And sure, it's with Blaine Anderson, but it's still a _date_. I've _never_ had one of those before! I don't know what to do, or what to wear or-or...

Normally, I'd call Mercedes and she'd talk me through it and help me calm down, but I _can't_ call her to have her calm me down. And it _sucks_.

Okay, Kurt. Take a deep breath. It's just a date. Just a date...

_Oh my god I have a date_.

In case you're wondering why I'm freaking out over a simple date, mental diary, it's because no boy as ever been interested in me. At my old school, they treated me like I was a poison, and if they even breathed the same _air_ as me they'd 'catch the homo' or something equally stupid. And so to have a boy (even if it _is _Blaine Anderson, who, I'll admit, is _very_ good looking) want to take me out somewhere is making me feel all giddy.

I haven't felt giddy in forever, mental diary.

Okay... Okay. Don't do this, Kurt. Blaine isn't freaking out, so, there's no need for you to freak out at all.

Right?

Right.

It's just a date. Just a date.

{~*~}

"Oh my _god_, _why_ am I good friends with Blaine anyway?" Wes yelled out as he yanked our dorm room open, then proceeded to slam it shut.

I put down the shirt I'd been holding and turned to look at him. "What is it?"

Wes stormed over to his bed and promptly fell on it; it surprised me. I'd never seen him act like this. Letting out a groan, Wes sat back up and ran a hand through his hair. "Blaine is having a freak out because he's taking this guy that he likes out on a date – _and we're not supposed to leave Dalton grounds, the fuck is he thinking? Taking him out of the grounds – _and he doesn't know what to wear and he's tossing his clothes out on his floor. Who _is_ this guy that is making him act like a love struck girl anyway?"

I hesitantly folded up the shirt I'd been thinking about wearing, wary of Wes' gaze on my back.

"Oh, fuck no."

I slouched down and pulled the shirt over to my dresser.

"He's taking _you_. Oh, fuck. He _likes_ you."

I raised my head and glared at him. "And that's a bad thing _because_...?"

Wes shook his head. "It's not really about you..." He paused. "Well, no, that's not entirely true-"

"What do you _mean_, Wes?"

He sighed. "We all want to get out of here. Blaine especially. And trying to get a boyfriend isn't going to get him out. Having a nice and clean record is. And sneaking out of the grounds to take a boy he has a crush on on a date? That's not going to keep his record clean."

I frowned and folded my arms across my chest. "It'll be fine if we don't get caught," I said, and _Kurt what are you thinking?_

Wes' frowned deepened, which shouldn't have been possible. "Kurt, I really care about Blaine, and I like you, but I like him more, so if you hurt him, then you'll have to deal with me, understand?"

I saluted him as I picked up my jacket, deciding to just wear what I'd been wearing, and headed out the door. "Crystal clear, General."

I shut the door without listening to his shouted reply.

{~*~}

Blaine was sitting on the stairs at the end of the hall when I began to make my way towards the common room, where he'd said to meet. "Blaine?" I asked, and he shot up and rushed towards me, his hand going up to cover my mouth. I glared at him. "The fuck?"

Well, I tried to say that. It actually came out like, rhefffufgkfd? But hey! I tried!

Blaine removed his hand and quickly looked around the hallway. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "We have to be quiet if we're going to leave. If they catch us then we'll be in a whole lot of trouble."

I cocked my head to the side. "You said it would be fine."

He shrugged and put on an adorable half-grin. "It's fine as long as we don't get caught." He glanced over his shoulder one more time, then turned back to me and held out his hand, his face holding one of the biggest smiles I'd ever seen. "Ready to go?"

I bit my lip, thinking about what Wes had said; Blaine wanted out... but what if we got caught? That would make it so that he would have to start over. I didn't want to do that to him. But when I looked back up at his face the smile he was giving me made my heart stop. I reached out with my hand and took his. "Sure, let's go."

Blaine told me as we walked, hunched down and gripping each others' hands tightly, out of the main building and headed across the grounds that there was a rather big hole in the fences in the back that were covered by a few bushes and it hadn't been fixed yet. Quite a lot of Dalton inhabitants used it to get out of Dalton when they needed to; to go see a movie, go bowling, eat at a nice restaurant, or go to the night club -

Which was where he told me we were going.

"Whoa, whoa," I said as I was helped up from the ground after I'd climbed through the hole. "How are we going to get into a _night club?_"

Blaine let out a muffled laugh. "Not _that_ kind of night club. It's a dance club; most of the time it's ballroom dancing, and tonight the theme is salsa. I thought that it would be fun..."

His voice had slowly gotten softer, and I squeezed his hand. "That actually does sound like a lot of fun," I said.

As it turned out, the club was mostly full of minors, and... Well, I hadn't ever been to a club like this. Never mind that I hadn't been to a club at all. Blaine's grip on my hand tightened as we got caught up in the sea of bodies and dragged rather far into the club. The lights were blinding, but the feel of everyone having fun made up for it.

"Kurt!" Blaine suddenly yelled in my ear, and even though I could tell he was yelling, I had to strain my ears to hear him.

"Yeah?" I yelled back at him.

He grinned and pointed to a spot on the floor that was empty. "Dance?" He yelled, miming dancing with me with his hands.

I let out a laugh and nodded, letting him drag me over to the spot that he'd seen. He gripped my hands tightly, then spun me around so that I was facing him. I bit my lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I didn't think that I was the greatest dancer; in fact, I _knew_I wasn't the greatest dancer, but the club looked like fun... Leaning in, I yelled, "Blaine, I don't know now to dance the salsa!"

"What?"

"I _said_, I don't know how to dance the salsa!"

Blaine frowned, then spun me around again. "I'll have to teach you," he yelled at me.

"Um..." It wasn't that I didn't want to learn, I did, but there were so many people and who knew if they were homophobic or-

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

I turned back to Blaine staring at me and I shook my head. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just a little hot in here, huh?"

He winked at me, then tightened his grip on my hands. "Okay, so follow my lead," he said, pulling me closer and putting a hand on my upper shoulder. "I step forward, then you step back..."

This went on for about four more songs, until I was laughing and forgetting exactly what I'd been worried about. Everyone else seemed to be having too much fun with their friends or their partners to even give us a second glance.

At least, that's what I _thought_.

Blaine had pulled me to the refreshment table and was busy getting us some drinks when a few girls wandered up to him. I pulled back, watching. _This should be mildly entertaining._

"Hi," one of them said, in a small and shy voice; I was surprised that Blaine even noticed her talking.

Blaine turned around, noticed her, then gave her a giant smile. "Oh, hi!" He said happily. "Are you having a fun time tonight?"

She nodded, and her friend gave her a gentle push on the back.

I tried to hold my laughter in.

The girl took a step closer to Blaine. "I saw you dancing with our friend earlier. Were you teaching him?"

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, he didn't know how to dance the salsa, and it's his first time at a club like this, so..." He took a slip of his drink and I watched as a few water droplets fell down his neck. _Wow, he looks really good like this_, I thought. Then I mentally slapped myself.

The girl was turning red as she reached up with her right hand and began to play with her hair. "So...um... I'm not that good with salsa _either_ and..."

And oh, wow. She was actually going there.

"C-could you possibly teach _me_ to dance the salsa?"

Blaine frowned. "Well, I saw you dancing earlier as well, and I do have to say that you actually know how to dance the salsa quite expertly, if I say so myself. I think that, though, if you're looking to improve your talents, you should just keep practicing," he said, and I was no longer able to hold my laugh in as the girl's face continued to get redder and redder. "Have a nice night," he told her, before he turned around and headed back towards me. "Here you go," he said, handing me my drink. "Are you having fun?"

I took a good look at him; I mean a _really_ good look. He looked so happy, and _so _unlike the sad person I saw around the halls of Dalton most of the time. So I gave him a nod, because I didn't want to see that smile go away, and it was true. I _was_ having fun. "Best first date I've ever had," I said loudly.

His smile grew about ten times happier.

On an impulse that I was confused as to where it came from, I leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. When I pulled back the look on his face was priceless. "Thank you," I said.

The smile didn't leave his face for the rest of the night.

{~*~}

According to my phone it was three a.m by the time we got back to the hall where my dorm room was located, both of us trying to stifle our laughs and giggles. Blaine was, which some part of me was rather hesitant to acknowledge, _fun_. His laugh was infectious, his smile was radiant, and his mind was _amazing_.

"So you really liked the last Vogue cover?"

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!" he said softly. "But it still doesn't beat Marion Cotillard's, right?"

I nodded, then noticed that we were at my door. I turned around and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Blaine," I whispered. "I had a _fantastic_ night." After he nodded in return and told me that he'd also had a fun night, I turned around and began to open my door. It was almost open when I heart him say my name again.

"Kurt?"

I blinked, then turned around and stared at him. "Yes?"

He bit his lip, then glanced back up and caught my gaze with his own; I found that I couldn't look away. "I'm going to kiss you, and then I'm going to ask you to date me. Not be my boyfriend; date me. Because I want to get to know you better before we officially become a couple and-"

"What makes you think that we're going to become boyfriends?"

_Wow, way to be blunt, Kurt. Way to be, you champion, you._

Blaine started laughing, honest to god _laughing_. "Because it's going to happen. I like you, you like me."

I frowned. "What happened to Oblivious Blaine from the club? The one who didn't know that the girl was flirting with him?" At this he blushed, and I found it adorable. "What happened to him? I want him back, please."

Blaine grinned, but the grin soon vanished. "S-so... Can I?"

I cocked my head to the side. "Kiss me?"

He nodded, and I shrugged. I mean, I had been wanting to make sure that my first kiss was amazing, but Blaine had proven himself to be amazing, fun, rather hot, and adorable all rolled up in one. He'd really redeemed himself in my eyes. And his lips looked completely kissable, so that was also a bonus. So, I gave him a smile and let him know my answer.

"Sure. Why no-"

I wasn't able to finish my sentence because at that moment Blaine lunged forward, taking my hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

It was soft, no pressure at all, simply lips touching lips, and _wow_. My eyes slipped closed without my knowing and then I realized that I was putting pressure into the kiss. I could feel the corners of Blaine's lips tilt up slightly -

And then he was pulling away.

_No_, I found myself thinking as I let my eyes fall open. _No, more kisses. Kissing is _good. _It's _really_ good! Come back, Blaine! Come back!_

But Blaine was already walking away, and I resigned myself to going back into my room, changing into my pajamas, and falling face first onto my bed, a giant grin on my face.

{~*~}

There's _one_ thing about myself that I always have to tell people when they end up sleeping by me or in the same room as me:

I am _not_ a morning person, until I've had my coffee. It's a fact. If I am woken up and forced to move without having my coffee, I will rip whoever woke me up to pieces and serve them with breakfast.

So when Wes woke me up at seven in the morning on a Sunday by throwing a bottle of water on my head, I was _very_ displeased. "Wes! What the hell?"

But the look Wes gave me as I shot up in bed made me falter, the water bottle in my hands and ready to throw back at him. "What is it? What's going on?"

Wes gave out a long and tired sigh. "It's Jeff."

I frowned. "What about Jeff?"

"The judge turned him down; said his record wasn't good – it was, according to her, _horrible_, and so he's been sent back here and he can't try again for at least another year."

The water bottle slipped out of my hands. "B-but he told me that his therapist said he was ready to go; everything was clean!"

Wes nodded and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know. _God_, this is the seventh time something like this has happened! Jeff's been good! He hasn't done anything except follow the rules!" He grabbed his sweatshirt and walked over to the door. "We're having an _emergency Warblers meeting_ in the commons room so that we can try to cheer him up..." He shook his head, then opened the door. "Be down there in thirty minutes," he said before he closed the door.

I was down there in twenty, forgoing my moisturizing routine (I know, right? But I like Jeff), and putting on something comfortable. When I got down there, Jeff was sitting on one of the couches, his head in his hands and Nick was rubbing a comforting hand across his back.

"I promised my sisters," Jeff was saying softly to himself. "I said I'd be back home for their next birthday..."

A hand slipped into mine, and I jumped slightly before I realized that Blaine was standing next to me, the same grim look on his face that I'd seen on Wes'. I gripped his hand tightly, then turned my gaze back to Jeff, wondering if there was anything that I could do to help.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>_Oh, gosh, you guys! I'm so sorry it took so long to put this up! It just didn't like me – at all. Well, I hope that you enjoyed it!

So, Kurt and Blaine are headed on the right track now, _**but will they last? Will someone else come in and sweep one of them off their feet?**_ Oh, who am I kidding? You won't have to worry about that with me. I don't like doing that in my stories, because it's done in so many others, so... Yeah. At least you won't have to worry about _that _kind of drama, or, you know, ex-boyfriends coming into play. ***le shrug **

Anyway, please let me know what you thought! It always never fails to make my day!

Lots of love,

UO


End file.
